Flowers In My Hair
by tildemarco
Summary: Hermione performs in an Open Mike Night, singing "I Wish I Were a Punk Rocker," by Sandi Thom


A/N: I know what your thinking: "Oh my god! _Another_ song fic?" But I really liked this one! I found it while rummaging through my files looking for something completely unrelated, and at first, I thought I hadn't finished it, but lo and behold! I did. So you guys are in for a treat! Enjoy!

"Mya, dahlin', are you gonna throw up again?" Rispah drawled in her sultry smoker's voice. Rispah was the stage manager at Club Seven, where Hermione was currently waiting Stage Left with all the other Open Mike performers that night, and a very good friend to "Mya."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Rispah, that was _one time!_" The argument was pointless and overdone but it allowed Hermione to stop thinking about the spotlight she would be walking into in about seven seconds.

Six - -

Five - -

Four - -

Three - -

Hermione took a huge breath and located her parents in the crowd, as well as her best friend ever, Harry Potter. They were sitting at a little café table front and center. Harry spotted her and winked encouragingly.

One.

"Hermione, sweetie, you're on."

With a deep exhale, Hermione pushed her shoulders back and swept onto the tiny stage. Her hair was pulled back into a half ponytail to control its wild nature and was held together with a shiny, gemstone barrette that sparkled in the spotlight. Harry had given her that barrette.

Her black denim skirt shifted as she inspected the crowd that night and smiled at the great turnout, stage fright forgotten. She was in her element. Tapping her foot lightly, she began to sing.

_Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair _

_In 77 and 69 revolution was in the air _

_I was born too late and to a world that doesn't care _

_Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair_

_When the head of state didn't play guitar, _

_Not everybody drove a car, _

_When music really mattered and when radio was king, _

_When accountants didn't have control _

_And the media couldn't buy your soul _

_And computers were still scary and we didn't know everything_

By now the audience was clapping with the rhythm. Hermione took the mike off the stand, thanked God it was cordless, and hopped directly off the stage. She touched her mom's hand, ruffled Harry's hair, grinned at her dad, and then traveled around the clapping tables.

_Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair _

_In 77 and 69 revolution was in the air _

_I was born too late and to a world that doesn't care _

_Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair_

She crouched down to smile at a little girl who was swinging her feet to the beat and grinning with pure joy. She touched the hands of a little boy who gazed into her eyes as if she were his idol.

_When pop stars still remained a myth _

_And ignorance could still be bliss _

_And when God Saved the Queen she turned a whiter shade of pale _

_When my mom and dad were in their teens _

_And anarchy was still a dream _

_And the only way to stay in touch was a letter in the mail_

Somehow back at the front of the room, a hand grabbed her wrist and spun her into a quick little jig that caused the entire room to chuckle. Harry grinned impishly and let her go again.

_Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair _

_In 77 and 69 revolution was in the air _

_I was born too late and to a world that doesn't care _

_Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair_

The small children she'd seen earlier suddenly jumped out of their seats as she passed and grabbed her hand, then grabbed the protesting hands of their parents. Getting the idea, Hermione began skipping, winding the growing chain of people through the maze of tables. Eventually, the chain dispersed, but not until Mya was so out of breath, she skipped a few lines and just laughed.

_When record shops were on top _

_And vinyl was all that they stocked _

_And the super info highway was still drifting out in space _

_Kids were wearing hand me downs, _

_And playing games meant kick arounds _

_And footballers still had long hair and dirt across their face_

A young man at a table farther back plucked a daisy out of the centerpiece and handed it to her with a grin. Hermione tucked it behind her ear. Inspired by the way the room was buzzing; Mya beckoned the ecstatic people around her to sing with her.

_Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair _

_In 77 and 69 revolution was in the air _

_I was born too late and to a world that doesn't care _

_Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair_

_I was born too late to a world that doesn't care _

_Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair_

She finished the song standing in the middle of the room, arms raised in triumph, and the building was shaking beneath her feet. Grinning sweetly, Mya made her way through the clapping hands and stomping feet to return the mike to Rispah and plop ungracefully into Harry's waiting lap.

Mya's father leaned across the table to yell, "And to think we sat in the front so that we'd be able to see you better! Well, that didn't work out so well!"

The family laughed, and Harry's arms slid possessively around Hermione's waist. "No matter, I've got her now, and she's not going anywhere anytime soon!"

It was said in jest, but Hermione sensed the truth of it, and relaxed into Harry's grip.

_I love you, Harry…_


End file.
